


Real Music

by twinkcester



Category: Supernatural RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Hipsters, J2, J2 AU, M/M, hipster, hipster AU
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-07-17
Updated: 2013-09-05
Packaged: 2017-12-20 10:24:36
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,525
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/886153
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/twinkcester/pseuds/twinkcester
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The mysteriously familiar Jensen teaches angry hipster Jared a thing or two about music and manners.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Cheezits in the Sex Cavern

Jared let out a heavy sigh and tapped his boot-clad foot against the linoleum tile. He crossed his bulging arms, expelling another irritated exhalation as he checked his watch. Ten minutes was way longer than this stupid latte was worth. He looked over at the tables near the raised platform presumptuously labeled a stage and waved at his group of friends Someone was going to take his chair if the incompetent barista didn’t call out in the next five sec-

“Jerry?”

“Are you serious?!” Jared yelled, exasperated with what he deemed constant poor service. He stormed up to the counter and harshly wrenched the steaming hot cup from the teenager’s trembling pimpled hands.

“I said my name eight fucking times!” the older man snapped. “Jared. Jared! J-A-R-E-D. Jar-red. I swear to god, you dicks mess it up every damn time!” He bared his teeth and grunted, shaking with fury as the server cowered against the counter. “Well?!”

“I’m sorry, sir,” the barista stuttered as he flinched away from the giant angry entity above him. He was used to people blowing up like this every day, but not anyone this... huge. “D-do you want a new cup?”

Jared flared his nostrils and shook his head. “Just listen next time and do your goddamn job,” he grumbled before stalking away. “If I did my job that shitty...”

The vaguely bitter taste of mocha and too much sugar to even resemble actual coffee washed over Jared’s tongue. He lifted the cooling drink to his slightly chapped lips and sipped carefully, scowling as his eyes ran over the wrong name on the styrofoam.

“Jerry,” he muttered to himself as he made his way towards his friends’ staked out table near the front of the stage.

Step after step, his boots thudded across the floor. Just before he reached his expectant friends, his eye was caught by a man sitting alone at another tall table. The man looked around Jared’s age, though the crow’s feet near his startlingly green eyes suggested he needed glasses, laughed at nearly everything, or was Jared’s senior by at least a few years. His lids drooped heavily before they snapped back open every few seconds and his plump lips pursed together. Despite the number of false starts to sleep, he never picked up the cup next to his open laptop. While he observed this guy for no apparent reason besides the blinding attractiveness, Jared had stopped in his tracks. He squinted and slid his glasses further up the bridge of his nose to get a clearer reading of the writing on the strangely compelling man’s cup. J... E- M? no, N. N-Y? Jenny. Signs pointed to uninterestingly waiting for a girlfriend.

“You've gotta be kidding me,” Jared mumbled under his breath as soon as his eyes raked over the design on Jenny’s boyfriend’s dark blue tank top. “Fun.” in big yellow block letters was plastered across the man’s chest. Jared felt the anger bubble in the pit of his stomach that this hot of a guy was wearing such a mainstream band’s shirt to this quality show, even if it did make his lightly freckled shoulders look really good.

As he dragged his fingertips across the worn pad of his laptop, Jensen hummed invariably along to the song running through his mind. He rubbed at his neck tiredly, feeling the vibrations from his barely melodic drone. The same hook from his ringtone had been stuck in his head all day and he was excited to hear some familiar covers for something else to permeate his brain. Jensen closed his email and clacked busily in the address bar. S-o-n-g-k-i-c- Before he could finish typing the URL, an obnoxious “Hey, poser” pierced his happy buzz.

“Hey, poser!” Jared repeated louder as he stepped towards the man who seemed more familiar as he got closer. Jensen’s head snapped up when he heard the irritating voice sound again.

“Can I help you?” Jensen grunted exasperatedly with a grimace.

“Sure you can, Douchey Tanktop,” Jared replied, stepping aggressively far into personal boundaries.

Jensen scowled and slapped his laptop shut, clearly inwardly and outwardly pissed off.

“Excuse me?”

Jensen stood up and faced Jared, the taller man’s chest heaving with unwarranted fury. His eyes dragged slowly down the vast expanse of orange-red plaid on top of a skin tight v-neck. Jensen swallowed visibly, Adam’s apple bobbing up and down. His gaze ripped back upward and he stretched onto his sneakered toes to seem more threatening. He met the glass covered and heavy black framed hazel eyes glaring back at him.

“You heard me,” Jared said, voice quivering slightly at the last word, but not withdrawing from the fight. “You gotta wear that shirt here?”

Jensen looked down, unsure of what he put on that morning. “Got a problem with fun?” he said slyly.

“Clever,” Jared snarled, talking half a step away to make the stand-off less awkwardly uncomfortable and more menacing. “But I wanna know why you decided to wear the logo of a shitty pop band to an actually good one’s show?”

Jensen blinked rapidly, baffled by the sheer stupidity dripping from the pretty dry lips of a guy who looked like that.

“You serious?” he said, unable to keep the laughter in.

“Just go get your girlfriend and leave this table open for someone who actually appreciates real music.” As Jared’s rant came to a close, he advanced back into his former territory, heavy weight balancing partially on the white smudged tips of Jensen’s grey Chuck Taylors. Jensen laughed again and pushed Jared off easily with one hand.

“Girlfriend? Real music? Are you-?” Jensen cut himself off, the enraged expression on Jared’s face confirmed that he was, in fact, serious.

“Okay, okay,” Jensen said, coughing to keep his response as serious as the other man’s. “First off, I’m here alone, no girlfriend. Second-”

“Wait,” Jared cut off, “I saw your cup. Who’s Jenny?”

“Observant,” Jensen scoffed and extended a hand to the taller of the two. “I’m Jenny. Jensen Ackles.

Jared suspiciously narrowed his eyes and enveloped the callused hand held out to him in his own huge paw, shaking eagerly. “That sounds damn familiar...”

“I’m sure you’ll figure it out,” Jensen said smugly. That holier than thou look was driving Jared crazy. He scowled and dropped the older man’s hand.

“Whatever,” he said, rolling his eyes. “Doesn’t matter. Get lost. Try listening to the radio instead of taking up space so you can drink your coffee.”

“I’m not.”

“What?”

“I’m not.”

“Not what?

“I’m not drinking any coffee.”

“I can see it on your table!”

“So it is my table?”

“Shut up.”

“I just ordered it.”

“What for? You don’t have to order to watch.”

“Feels wrong. I dunno. I always order.”

Jared felt his heart jump a little at the honorable gesture but quickly shook it from his head. This guy was still a douche in Jared’s book.

“You come here often?”

“That’s not a very original line.”

“That’s not what I meant.”

And the douchiness was back.

“Why are you here?” Jared asked bluntly. “Shouldn’t you be listening to your mainstream CDs?” Jensen barked out another sharp laugh.

“You got that all from a tank top?” When Jared stayed silent, staring intently into the smiling emerald eyes, Jensen grinned and shook his head.

“Look,” he began exhaustedly, smile slipping from his face, “I don’t want to be rude, but since you already were, I’ll go right ahead. You’re a pompous douche. The term ‘real music’? That’s total bullshit. This cover band isn’t any more real than fun. or Ke$ha or whatever else you think you’re too fuckin’ good for. Disliking a genre is one thing, and that’s totally fine and dandy. But what isn’t okay is discrediting artists that you’ve probably only heard one song of anyway as fake because you think your taste is superior. And your king dick move was coming up to me on a bad day and insulting me and my shirt when I clearly know more about music than your narrow little mind could possibly fathom, much less understand.”

Instead of getting increasingly infuriated through his tirade, Jensen just fell more and more disappointed that he had to give this speech to a total stranger. What an asshole. Jared’s jaw meanwhile dropped and he mouthed openly like a fish out of water.

“You don’t know anything,” he said quietly before Jensen interrupted.

“Walk away, Jared,” he said with a sigh, dexterously climbing back onto the chair and opening his computer up again. He once more tried to search for sonkick.com without disruption.

“I didn’t say my name,” Jared pointed out, eyebrows knitted together in confusion. He bit his lip to keep in whatever was dying to pour out, be it yells or screams or cries. His intestines were tied into endless knots and he had no idea which emotions to let out, and what was entirely inappropriate for this situation.

“Don’t yell at the barista,” Jensen replied simply with a smirk, still refusing to look up from the web page before him. “That kid doesn’t get paid enough to deal with assholes like you.”

Finally registering that he should be pissed off, Jared bared his teeth and growled. Realizing Jensen wasn’t watching, he walked to his friends table with the continued sour expression. Jensen’s stare at the screen lifted to Jared’s swaying ass as he left, chuckling softly to himself and licking his lips. What an asshole.

When Jared got into his seat, he begrudgingly accepted friendly back slaps and greetings.

“What’s up your ass, Jay?” Genevieve giggled as she twiddled her silver eyebrow stud. She shoved him playfully with one weak arm.

“Your boyfriend,” Jared grunted. The table erupted into laughter.

“You wish,” Chad said with a cheesy grin, throwing his arm carelessly around Gen.

“Mmm, so do I...” Gen trailed off with a faint smile.

“Keep it in your pants,” Misha pretended to scold the only girl in their group of friends. “Your boyfriend is, unfortunately, straight.”

“I’m not doing Jared,” Chad confirmed. “Or Misha,” he added as an afterthought.

Gen protruded her fat lower lip in a mock pout. Chad smirked and took the lip between his teeth.

“Ugh,” Misha groaned, “get a room.” He smiled at Jared, then frowning when his expression failed to reciprocate across from him. He clapped a hand to Jared’s shoulder and lowered his voice to a dull whisper, leaning his head in closer. “So did you act like an asshole, or are you gonna bone Jensen Ackles?”

Jared sputtered out the swig of coffee he had just taken.

“What the hell are you talking about?!” he asked incredulously and defensively.

“Oh, come on,” Misha scoffed. “Don’t tell me you don’t want a piece of that.”

“I didn’t even say his name, how’d you know?”

Misha stared blankly at the younger man before bursting into a fit of giggles. “You mean you don’t know?” he gasped out, clutching his gut and nearly falling off his teetering tall chair.

“What are you blabbering about?” Jared snapped, frustrated that he had lost the upper hand in another conversation.

“Oh my god,” Misha crowed, tears in his eyes. “You’re such a prick! I can’t believe you don’t know who he is...”

“Shut up!” Jared snarled. He recoiled when his friend tried to grab him for support. “I don’t care who he is! He’s a dick.”

Misha calmed his ragged breathing and wiped the tears from his bright blue eyes with the back of his hand. “Fine,” he amended. “I won’t tell you. Let me have a shot then-”

“No!” Jared nearly shouted. The smaller of the two smirked.

“God, you’re possessive. Fine, I won’t hit on him either.”

As Misha spoke, three men climbed onto the stage with instruments in hand.

“Hello, Coffee Creek,” the guitarist wheezed nervously as his bandmates set up. “We’re Cheezits in the Sex Cavern, a cover band. Folk covering rock, hope you like it.” With the poor sound system and timid voice of the lead singer, Jared and Misha could continue their conversation.

“Did you get his number?”

“No, he’s a jerk off.”

“Then why were you talking to him?”

“...”

“Too embarrassed, Jay?”

“Bite me.”

“Only when we’re drunk.”

“I told him off for wearing that shirt.”

“Is this a joke?”

“Do you think I’m joking?”

“You better hope you never find out who he was.”

“Why?”

“It’s better if I don’t tell you.”

“Fuck you.”

“Not today, dearie.”

As their dialogue died down and the second song started up, Jared felt a tap on the shoulder. When he whipped around to discover who was bothering him, he saw no one and turned back around, shrugging to himself. On the table, between his and Misha’s coffee cups, Jared found an unfamiliar crumpled napkin. He unfolded it and read the sloppy, all-caps message:

DEAR JARED AND OTHER ATTRACTIVE GUY,  
NO MATTER HOW MUCH A BAND SUCKS, EVEN AS BAD AS THIS, IT’S RUDE TO TALK THROUGH A SONG. ESPECIALLY WHEN YOU'RE TALKING ABOUT ME. AND I CAN HEAR YOU.  
LOVE,  
JENNY

P.S. TO THE GUY WHO ISN’T JARED;  
DON’T TELL HIM WHO I AM IF YOU’VE FIGURED IT OUT, THOUGH YOU MIGHT BE A POSER LIKE HIM. I’M SURE I’LL SEE YOU PRICKS AGAIN.

Jared snapped his head up from the note, looking to the exit as Misha read with wide eyes over his shoulder and the door hit Jensen’s sneakered heels.

“Shit!” Misha mumbled in awe.

“Shut up,” Jared grumbled as he wadded the paper back up and threw the crinkled ball across the table at his friends with their tongues down each other’s throats.


	2. Irritating Strangers Prick Like a Thorn

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jared and Jensen might hate each other, but even apart, they can't keep their minds off one another.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you, Abby (dungeons-deep on tumblr) for helping me with my story!

Jared leaned tiredly against the cheap pleather booth and Misha’s jean jacket clad bicep. The older of the two patted the younger awkwardly on the head before shoving him back upright. 

“Come on, Jay,” Misha slurred, feigning a tough exterior. “You weigh like a thousand pounds. You gotta sit on your own.” His stern facade slipped and he let out something half between a shrieking giggle and a howling snort before taking another sip of his PBR. Jared groaned and slumped forward, head knocking to the table.

“Bitches!” Adrianne shrieked as she came up behind them all, gripping tightly in Jared’s soft chestnut strands of hair and jerking his head up. “What’s got you all down in the dumpsies?” She hiccoughed and tittered, trying to pull herself between them by Misha’s shoulder and her handful of Jared’s hair. 

“Ow!” whined Jared as Adrianne anchored herself over the back of the booth and into the limited space in the middle of the two men.

“The other side has more room,” Jared grumbled, rubbing at the sore spot on the top of his head.

“No we don’t,” Chad and Gen chorused. Their kind of couple telepathy only got under the group’s skin when they used it to plot against everyone. Getting the good side of the booth seemed to fall under the category of ‘things worthy of trying hard at’.

To the couple’s dismay, suddenly Danneel was sliding up next to Genevieve, bumping them into the wall despite whines and protests.

“Sorry we missed the show,” she said with a slightly sheepish grin. A ruddy pink sat on her cheeks, the kind you get after running a mile or keeping a secret or, to be as flushed as this, keeping a secret about running a mile. She rested her weight against the entangled pair beside her and let out a contented sigh. “We found a drinking game and watched 500 Days of Summer twice.”

“Joseph Gordon-Levitt looked good through the first watch,” explained Adrianne, “but I was really diggin’ some Zooey vibes the second time around.” She giggled again, nearly toppling over with her laughter. 

“You get increasingly gayer the more you drink,” Misha observed as he elbowed the blonde for more space. A blush automatically rushed to the newcomers’ already ruddy cheeks and the brunette changed the subject abruptly back to the concert they missed. “So was the cover band any good? They usually fuck up majorly unless they’re hammered.”

“Jared’s boyfriend didn’t quite seem to think so,” Misha teased slyly, evading the feeble punch flying towards him. 

“Ooh!” Adrianne squealed and shoved against Jared. “Who’s your boyfriend, JJ?”

“I don’t have a boyfriend!” Jared blurted gruffly. He glared around the girl between them and his eyes threw daggers at Misha. “If you tell her, I’ll break your vinyls.”

Misha gasped in mock disgust, shocked that he would even threaten such a thing. “How dare you, Padalecki. I wasn’t going to tell them about your celebrity crush.” 

Danneel knocked her elbows to the table and leaned forward, eager to show her interest in learning more. “No, you’re definitely going to tell us,” she said forcefully.

“No, he’s not,” Jared insisted. “Bite me.” As he growled, Jared’s friends burst into laughter. “Let me out,” he snapped.

“Aw, Jay,” Misha pouted, not budging from his spot on the open end of the booth. “Don’t leave, who’m I gonna make out with when I’m really hammered? You know, hammered enough not to see your face.”

While Adrianne volunteered herself and Danneel’s pleasant expression grew sour, Jared followed the blonde’s path into her current seat, climbing over the low wooden wall.

He paced aimlessly around the bar and tables, unsure what was upsetting him and what was stopping him from his usual night’s pattern. Any other day like this, he’d be on his third bottle and getting inappropriately handsy with whomever was around and convenient. Buying another beer suddenly felt like an awful chore and getting drunk was repetitively predictable. Was this that stupid guy’s fault? He wouldn’t admit it to even himself, but Jared hadn’t been able to shake Jensen Ackles’ pretty face and biting remarks from his mind since they met. No internet searches, he had promised himself. Knowing who he was wasn’t going to make this any better. If he couldn’t even go out drinking with his friends to avoid an existential crisis about the meaning of life, what was Jared going to do with the rest of his pathetically routine days? Work at the record shop, catch a show from bands that all sounded the same, get plastered. He was a grown man, for God’s sake! Already 25. What a way to live. At least, it seemed alright until... Whatever.

When he turned around to leave the bar without a word to the gang, Jared was met face-to-face and toe-to-toe with a man substantially and surprisingly bigger than him. 

“Oh!” Jared breathed out, gaze trailing up and peering over his glasses to meet the huge man eyes.”I’m Kyle,” the stranger purred confidently. Oh boy.

Kyle ran his thick fingers through his own short cropped red curls and smiled down at Jared, who was confusedly gaping out silence. “Alright, Anonymous,” Kyle said with a humorless chuckle. “No need for names. Are you drunk enou- oh!” Suddenly their lips were pressed together. Jared didn’t remember initiating it, but he was the one leaning up and forward on his tiptoes and this guy (what was his name again? Jared was already pulling a blank.) seemed even more startled than he was. 

The kiss was hot, but not in the steamy passionate way it was supposed to be, or even desperate and needy like it usually was. He just felt heat; the heat of the guy’s uninviting mouth and the pressure of the constricting arms, making Jared wonder if he would develop claustrophobia after this event. Maybe he wasn’t drunk enough to enjoy it, but the discomfort was enough of a distraction that he flinched without pulling away when he felt the palm groping roughly at his ass. As he expected it to get better, or at least less terrible, it seemed like seconds ticked away like normal hours.

And it’s awful and still dragging on until it’s over and now Misha is there and Kyle has his death grip cutting into the little guy but they’re both having a good time and Misha is a hero or just an ass, it’s hard to tell from here and... 

Jared’s mind had 1000 of these incomplete thoughts going 100 miles an hour, but everything seemed to be in slow motion. For being mostly sober, he sure was acting like a drunken idiot. Realizing such, he walked dazedly back to the booth where Danneel and Adrianne sat across from each other, voices lowered and necks strained closer to hear the quiet words. When they caught sight of Jared stumbling toward them, Adrianne flushed the color of her scarlet corduroys and jumped up, scampering away for God knows what reason. Jared could barely comprehend his own life at the moment, much less wonder what that was all about.

He slid to the seat, staring quizzically at Danneel’s scowl off into the crowd.

“It’s nothing,” she said unconvincingly, answering the question no one had verbally asked. She pinched the bridge of her nose in agitation. “What’s up with you?” she asked politely after a tired sigh.

Jared knew the cues Danneel was giving out clearly stated she really didn’t care what his answer was, but it had been such a stressful, confusing day that he just spilled the whole story. The tale included swears and obscene hand gestures about and to Jensen. By the end of the story, Jared was panting heavily and Danneel was listening intently.

“O-kay,” said Danneel slowly, nodding her head as she processed the facts. “But who was the hot guy?”

“I never said he was hot.”

“But you’re blushing like a girl now that I said it,” she pointed out with a smarmy smirk.

“Shut up.”

“Okay, so tell me his name.”

Jared mumbled something incoherent as he studied the patterns of the grainy wood on the beer stained table top.

“What was that?”

“Jensen Ackles,” he repeated, voice low and hoarse but louder in volume than before.

“And you don’t know who h-”

“No.” 

Danneel’s face twisted and fought against the instinct she could barely hold in. Her muscles tensed, her face turned purple in concentration before it was too much. She lost it not all that gracefully, with hand slapping the table and laughter racking her ribs as she she clutched her gut with the free hand. When she had calmed down with the assistance of Jared’s stony glare, she wiped the tears from her eyes and let out a heavy exhalation. “You’re such a poser,” she declared happily.

“I don’t want to hear it,” he warned, expression refusing to warm.

“Alright, fine,” she said, holding her open palms up in defense of herself. “Just try to be less of an ass, yeah?”

Before Jared could gripe in response again, Adrieane had her long spindly legs wrapped around the other woman’s waist and whispered drunkenly into her “friend’s” neck. Danneel sighed in annoyance before arching her back to move against the fluid woman on top of her. 

Jared rolled his eyes and rested his sharp jaw onto his hand, staring off through his grimy lenses into space. “I thought you were straight?” he asked Adrianne absent mindedly and disinterestedly. 

“I’m drunk,” she said firmly before murmuring on Danneel’s tan skin again.

“That’s great,” he said with a fake smile before slumping his head face down to the table.

-x-x-x-

Jensen hit play on the remote for the millionth time that night and kicked his sneakers up on the desk. Hours of listening to demos made him cranky, irritable, and far too critical to make any good decisions about the music he was listening to. He rubbed his eyes tiredly, listening through the monotonous voice introducing a non-descript band whose name he would probably forget once he turned it off. He could finish the rest tomorrow after another night’s restless tossing, even if his father told him to have it done tonight. Perhaps it was due to distractions of the mind, but nothing he heard today was worth investigation, from the 25 demos of 5 songs each to the cover band in the coffee shop. As the slow electric guitar strummed out from the speakers, Jensen squeezed his eyes shut to fight the memory from taking over his thoughts again.

Sure, Jensen met plenty hipster douchebags on his search, and most of them were far more attractive externally than their personalities. None of them, however, ever left the barrier of where he met them, never trailing into the safe haven of the recording studio. Not until now, anyway. In the yellow lit room covered in framed posters and sound panels, he could be alone with his thoughts and the non-stop music. But with Jared the jerk-off plaguing his brain and giving him a migraine... well he was confused as hell. What could possibly be so special about this guy?

Something apparently, for as the lyrics fittingly about an irritating stranger and infatuation pricking like a sharp thorn registered in his brain, Jensen couldn’t help but begrudgingly let Jared into his mind. 

Jared, who thought “real music” actually meant something.  
Jared, who confronted him for wearing a flipping Fun. tank top.  
Jared, who yelled at the teenage barista for writing Jerry on a cup.  
Jared, who he’d probably never see again even if he had predicted it in the note.  
Jared, who was a jerk.

Perfect.


	3. I and Love and You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jared sneaks off to a mainstream show and tries to give another stranger and earful. Coincidentally, this green eyed man isn't a stranger anymore.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No one read this before I posted it, edited only by myself and PaperReader. I was just really excited to put it up. Sorry for any mistakes, and feel free to point them out. I won't be offended and appreciate it greatly. 
> 
> *IMPORTANT* The song I and Love and You by the Avett Brothers is included in this fic, and I'd suggest listening to it as you read. *IMPORTANT*

A couple of weeks later, Jared bounced along happily on his walk to the event he had in store for his night. Luckily his group of friends was settled on staying in, because he couldn’t stand to be caught on the way to this concert. While the Avett Brothers had been dearly beloved in his “scene” since before 2007, they had been shunned and boycotted since signing to a major record label for their last 2 albums. Jared, however, deciding he couldn’t drag himself away from the good music just for the sake of a vendetta, subsequently bought himself a ticket and made plans to go alone.

He didn’t have a problem with tail-gating by himself, enjoyed it usually. An excited buzz settled in the pit of his stomach as he joined the line and flipped open a copy of Pride and Prejudice. Considering no one he knew would ever show up here tonight, he figured it’d be safe to indulge in his secret obsession with Austen novels while he waited. He tried assiduously to focus all of his attention on the worn pages’ tiny print but couldn’t continue the concentration through distraction. 

Two men in nondescript baggy sweatshirts with hoods up were rubbing Jared’s already irritated nerves the wrong way. A CD player in their position cranked out music. While it wasn’t objectively at a disruptive level, anything that got in the way of Jared’s reading didn’t get by long without a lecture peppered with obscenities. The voice on the recording sounded unmistakably like Seth Avett, though the familiar raw quality was missing and the banjo replaced by electric guitars. The wailing and undeniably Avett screech punctured Jared’s content bubble and, much like the metaphoric bubble, he burst. Face dissolving into a beet red, he tapped the smaller and therefore less intimidating man on the heavy clothed shoulder. 

“You need to be in front but you’ve only got the shitty sell out CD, that’s it? Fucking poser- oh Jesus Christ…”

He moaned exasperatedly as the figure turned, meeting him with a cheeky grin. 

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” Jared grumbled under his breath, drawn up and agitated form slumping down in predetermined defeat.

“I guess I didn’t teach you manners all that well, Jerry-bear,” Jensen teased with a satisfied smirk. A smug lilt in his voice disguised the glee radiating all the way down through his kneecaps from really finding Jared again. Since the day in the coffee shop, the guy had been plaguing his mind. Jensen needed more than anything to see him again, hoping a re-encounter would cut the romanticizing short.

“This is my own personal hell,” Jared continued to whine pathetically. “I knew all that grade-school cheating would come back to bite me in the as…”

Jensen barked out a sharp cackle, emerald eyes sparkling when he laughed. “I guess that makes me Satan, then?” He hummed the opening bars to Sympathy for the Devil and began to sing in a deep graveled voice. “Pleased to meet you, won’t you guess my name?”

Jared stifled a reluctant laugh by curling his lips in on themselves. He held his book behind his back and sighed. “Can you just turn it down a little?” he begged quietly. “Please?”

Jensen’s smile turned pitying and nodded, leaning over to nudge the pause button. “You ever heard it?” he asked abruptly right before Jared could return to his book. 

“What?” the taller man questioned confusedly, eyebrows knitting together in befuddlement and glasses shifting in result.

“The new albums. I’d assume you haven’t listened to anything after Rubin?”

“Rubin?” Jared repeated blankly.

Jensen shook his head sadly. “Rubin,” he repeated with a nod. “Rick Rubin. Their new producer, big shot, came with the new record label-”

“Oh,” Jared cut him off. “Yeah. Nothing after Emotionalism.” He hadn’t exactly wanted to admit that. His natural response was usually to pretend he had and hated it. An informed opinion looked more educated, after all. Blurting before he thought, unable to stop himself, was… ill informed to say the least.

“Of course you haven’t.” Jensen tried to stifle a laugh of his own as he ejected the CD and replaced it with another from his canvas tote bag. When Jared tried to interrupt again, Jensen shushed him with a finger to the taller man’s lips as the quiet piano notes began to sound. “Hush up and listen, pretty boy,” he commanded in a whisper as he dragged his hand back into his personal space. 

For the next five minutes, they stood silently. Jared intently watched the timer change on the music player while Jensen studied Jared’s expressions. The hazel puppy dog eyes lighting up as the lyrics began was a sugar-water shot to the hummingbirds spastically flitting around in his stomach. He had wanted to see Jared again to disprove the crazy theory taken root in his brain that he was somehow different from the other guys exactly like him. But when he whispered excitedly “You can hear their voices so much better!”, Jensen’s heart just about melted on the spot.

“That’s called a good producer,” he said softly when the song ended. “Switching labels doesn’t just mean you want more money. You might want to just be better. Improvement is progressing.”

Jared smiled begrudgingly. “Alright, Mr. Philosophy,” he teased. “I’m sorry for bothering you.” He rolled his eyes but his slight grin was genuine, one dimple peeking out barely. Jensen returned the smile and beamed up. 

“I’m sorry for calling you and your friend pricks,” he apologized sheepishly. “You really shouldn’t talk while someone is performing in a place like that, though.”

“I know,” Jared said with a dry chuckle. “He was making fun of me for not knowing who you were. I had to… y’know, defend my honor.”

“Did you figure it out yet?” he inquired curiously, crookedly grinning as he jiggled on his heels. “Look it up? Internet?”

“No,” Jared assured firmly. “Using the Internet is cheating, I decided.”

Jensen nodded thoughtfully. “I couldn't agree with you more. I guess you’ll never know, poser.” 

Jared shoved Jensen playfully by the shoulder. “How the hell does not knowing you make me a poser? Kinda egotistical there, aren’t we, Jenny?”

“Can’t tell you!” Jensen sung mockingly. “It’d be too much of a hint.”

Jared huffed in a pout and crossed his arms. “Am I allowed to learn anything about you?”

“Hmm…” Jensen thought with a jokingly pensive expression. “I’m allergic to shellfish and pollen,” he listed. “I can balance a spoon on my nose really well. I like watercolors and I hate nail biting and people like you, usually. When I was in eighth grade, I got mono and spread it to more than 15 people before I started displaying symptoms from excessive kissing. I've got freckles on my a-”

“Okay!” Jared giggled incredulously. “I get it.”

“Did you honest-to-god- just giggle?” Jensen questioned with a snort. “You’re fucking precious!”

“Shut up,” Jared snapped before smoothing out the wrinkles in his frowned countenance. “I didn’t giggle. I’m a grown ass man.”

“You’re big and grown, alright. But you look like you could still be in high school.”

“I do not!” Jared indignantly insisted. “I’m 25, not a teenager!”

Jensen laughed at the younger man’s immediate defense of himself. “I’m just kidding. Wanted to hear how old you were.”

“How old are you? 40?”

“That wasn’t very nice, Jared,” Jensen pouted.

“Alright,” he relented. “I’m sorry. You’d be the world’s hottest 40 year old. I’m just still pissed about the high school thing.”

“Aw, quit it, Jay,” Jensen mumbled bashfully. “You’re making me blush.”

“Okay, okay,” Jared laughed. “But seriously, how old are you?”

“29.”

“Old.”

“You’re a pain.”

“I try.”

“So tell me about you,” Jensen suggested.

“I dunno,” Jared shrugged. “I’m boring.”

“I’m sure you aren’t.”

“I don’t know,” he repeated. “I like to read.”

“Read what?”

“You’ll laugh.”

“I read Twilight.”

Jared giggled again. “What the hell for?”

“I wanted to read it before I mocked it. Don’t knock it ‘til you try it.”

“Was it any good?”

“Not even close.”

“Fine,” Jared relented. “I read Austen.”

“Like Jane Austen?”

“Yeah,” he acknowledged, holding up the book in his hand.

“That’s cute,” Jensen commented conversationally. 

“I’m glad I could amuse you,” Jared retorted bitterly.

“At least it’s not Vonnegut or Plath,” Jensen pointed out with a shrug. “It’s kinda what I expected from you.”

Grinning smugly, Jared puffed out his chest. “See? I’m unique as hell. Don’t group me in with those other losers.”

“No, you’re definitely not like other guys,” Jensen agreed glumly.

“Do you really have freckles on your ass?” was blurted out suddenly.

“Still got your mind stuck on that, do you?” Jensen smirked pridefully and Jared’s tan skin burned bright red. 

“You’re the one who brought it up.”

“Just to see if you’d keep thinking about it.”

Jared scoffed but didn’t verbally disagree.

“Yeah, I do,” Jensen confirmed with a hint of mischief in his tone. “Ya wanna see?”

Jared choked on a shallow inhalation and bugged his eyes from his head.

“I can’t see you not understanding what I meant by that,” Jensen laughed.

“Thought you hated guys like me?” Jared reminded with a hazy chuckle.

“Thought you were unique as hell?” Jensen retorted, shrugging minimally.

“Touché.”

“So what else do you do?”

“I draw cartoons. I work at a record shop. One time I stepped on a dead bird and then licked my shoe on a dare.”

“Like music?”

Jared blinked confusedly. “Did I lick my shoe like music?”

“No, you work in a record shop. Like music records?”

Jared nodded jerkily as he ran thick fingers through his hair. “Yeah. I actually do know stuff about music. I’m not a snob for no reason.”

Jensen’s lids snapped shut and he threw his head back, laughing uncontrollably. “But you really don’t know who I am?”

“Do you have something to do with music?”

“Oh my god, Jared.”

Jared’s features scrunched up in annoyance and he puffed out an irritated hot breath. “Don’t laugh at me, dirty little fucker.”

Jensen nodded and tried to catch his breath. “No more laughing,” he promised, “if you watch your mouth. I only offer this deal cuz you’re cute.”

Jared smiled shyly and subsequently felt a vibration from his pocket. He ignored the first two rings but sighed, irked by the fact that it couldn’t possibly be that important. “What could you by any means need right now?” he snapped into the receiver. Misha’s voice greeted him harshly from the other end of the line. 

“Sorry to bother you, princess, but I thought you might like to know your friend is currently in the hospital. Didn’t know I’d be inconveniencing you from your night of sitting on your ass and doing nothing.”Jared paled and stood up straighter.

“You?”

“Danneel.”

“Shit.” 

“Yeah.”

“Is she okay?”

“Dunno.”

“I’ll be right there.”

“Good. St. Peter’s.”

“I figured.” 

Jared ended the call with trembling fingers and looked up at Jensen. “I’ve gotta go,” he jutted out abruptly.

“Okay,” Jensen allowed reluctantly, heart sinking a little in his chest. “Can I uh… have your number?” 

“It’s kind of an emergency.”

Jensen nodded again, pulling his wallet from the pocket of his jeans. He slipped a slightly curled business card from of one of the brown leather sleeves, tearing off the top half upon inspection. All that remained on the card was a cell number, offices number, and the middle of a phrase: “ckles Rec”. He swiftly proceeded to hand Jared the paper and listened hopefully for a response, cringing when all he got back was a mumbled “thanks” and scampering away. 

Jensen turned back around where the older man he had forgotten all about was staring at him. “That didn’t really go well,” he pointed out gruffly, scratching the grey hairs on his face. 

“I’m so glad I asked you, Jeffrey,” Jensen bit back angrily.

He didn’t expect a call, not really. Anyone who made up an emergency to leave wasn’t going to call, and he had learned that a long time ago. What really bit was the delusion he had conceived that they had been somewhat getting along. Apparently he’d been so sadly mistaken that Jared need to fake an ‘emergency’ to get out of it. They weren’t even on a date, for crying out loud. Could just a random encounter go that poorly? “I feel kinda nauseous,” he grunted. “I’ve got work to do anyway, you know how pissed Alan gets when I put shit off…” 

Jeffrey shook his head and grabbed Jensen by the wrist as the younger began to move away. “You’re not ditching me here just because you struck out,” he commanded.

Jensen rolled eyes but ceased his exiting effort. So when the gates opened, he filed in mindlessly, barely contributing to Jeffrey’s rant on production value as he waited through the hours. When the band finally came out, he was incomparably less excited than he had arrived. The soft piano keys clicked and Jensen groaned. Of course. The song he made Jared listen to. He tried to numb himself through the first verse, but by the second, he was too compelled to listen.

“When at first I learned to speak, I used all my words to fight. With him, and her, and you, and me… aw, but it’s just a waste of time.”

Of course.

“Yeah, it’s such a waste of time.”

Jensen’s throat tightened as he made his way through the crowd to leave, turning a blind eye to Jeffrey’s protests.

“Brooklyn, Brooklyn, take me in. Are you aware the shape I’m in? My hands they shake, my head it spins. Aw, Brooklyn, Brooklyn, take me in.”


End file.
